


Only Good News

by Unpretty



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Deer Lord, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:24:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3369434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unpretty/pseuds/Unpretty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Titus Abrasax and Famulus have sex. That's it, that's the fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Good News

"Now what was the bad news?"

Of course he knew that there was bad news. It was like he could smell it on her. Titus Abrasax did not allow bad news in his bedroom, but that didn't mean he was oblivious to its existence.

"The shareholders are getting restless, my lord," she said. "They want to know when the next harvest will be." Famulus had been very dutifully rearranging the mess on his desk into a more aesthetically pleasing mess. It wasn't that she didn't have anything to do; it was that she could tell that trying to do them would be counterproductive. Better now to _look_ busy than to _actually_ be busy.

"The shareholders can continue writing as many opinion pieces as they'd like about how much they dislike the way my dick tastes in their mouths," he said, "as long as they don't stop _sucking_."

He had a way with words, did Titus.

His hands went to the desk on either side of her waist, standing close behind her as she continued to set things in tidy piles for him to ruin. Deer though she was, she did not dart or cower. He still smelled like the delicate perfumes of at least ten other people, and they combined on his skin to become something not delicate at all.

"Shall I put out a press release?" she asked, arching an eyebrow and tilting her head just enough to see him out the corner of her eye. He hadn't even bothered to get dressed, the lout.

"I may work on the language a bit first," he said, which was surely an understatement. His every missive was a carefully crafted work of art, language so precise it could split atoms. He hooked a finger around one of her horns, and used it to urge her head into a backward tilt, her throat an arch of exposed skin.

"Fewer references to genitalia?" she suggested, not the least bit fazed by the vulnerable position he was putting her in.

"More," he said, "but I'll use metaphors." He pressed against her, and through her dress she could feel the outline of his erection. "I'll hide them all between the lines, and they'll swallow them eagerly like shareholders always do."

"They must be so _small_ ," she said with an innocent flutter of her eyelashes, "for you to be able to hide them there." She could see, upside-down and sideways, the way his mouth twitched into almost a smile. He rewarded this show of plausibly-deniable insubordination by running the tip of his tongue along the edge of her ear, knowing full well it would make her shiver.

" _Famulus_ ," he teased, "you're trembling."

"There must not be enough heat," she retorted, emphasizing the sentiment by pressing back against him.

"You're cold, all right," he said, still holding her by a horn, other hand sliding down her body to pull her dress higher. "Next time I order a splice, I'm getting something _warm_ and _cuddly_. Like a cat. I could have had a cat splice, and here I am stuck with you instead."

"My inferiority must be such a trial for you, my lord," she said, her hem up around her waist. He released her so that he could run both hands along the bare skin of her thighs.

"A terrible trial," Titus agreed, reaching around her to knock all of the carefully arranged disarray of his desk to the floor. "I bet a cat splice would be taller," he added, adjusting the gravity on the desk to be higher off the ground.

"I bet she'd piss in your shoes," Famulus said, pressing her palms to the desk as Titus picked her up by the hips, so that she was bent over his desk with her feet off the ground.

"I _do_ prefer my shoes unpissed," he said, his cock sliding teasingly between her thighs. "I might not replace you, yet."

"My gratitude is boundless, my lord," she said, though grateful was not the word for her tone.

"As it should be," he said, and she could not help the sound that she made as the hard length of him slid inside her, his hands on her hips to hold her still. "You know what else about cats, they have those _teeth_ and those _tongues_. That wouldn't do at all. You've got a very good tongue, when you're not wasting it on words."

"What _have_ I done to earn such marvelous compliments, my lord?" she asked, and he thrust harder.

"I must be in a good mood," he said, "because I don't think you've earned them at all. I'm being _magnanimous_. Make a note of it, that's my quota for the century."

" _Yes_ , my lord," she gasped, and he timed his thrusts to coincide with the words he liked best.

"Turn on the mirror," he ordered, and she reached beneath his desk to flip the switch. Her gaze met the eyes of his reflection, both looking at the image of the other's face. He drove into her, and watched the way her eyes went wide and shut, the shapes her mouth made. "Tell me again," he said, "how _grateful_ you are."

"Thank you, my lord," she said immediately, and he wrapped his fingers around both her horns so that her back arched, so that he could better see her face in the mirror.

"Again."

" _Thank you_ , my lord."

"Keep going."

"Thank you," she repeated, " _thank you_ , th _ank_ you, thank y _ou_ ," reciting it for him as he thrust harder and faster and made her words bounce with the rest of her. She didn't break eye contact with his reflection, not until he'd closed his eyes and bowed his head and shuddered with the force of filling her. Astonishing that there could be anything left when he'd already amused himself thrice over with women not spliced to be half an animal.

She didn't reach a climax of her own, but she hadn't expected to. That was _very_ rare, and he gloated unbearably when he noticed it happening. Her pleasure would be private and personal, when there was no one else to please; and in the meantime it was so lovely, this heat and his touch and the look on his face, that instant where he was utterly helpless and utterly hers.

Titus ran a hand through his hair as he collected himself, and then he grinned at her in the mirror. "You're welcome."

She restrained a smile, a sharp intake of breath as he pulled out of her. Always so empty, afterward, as if he'd hollowed out a space inside her. In a way, she supposed, he had. "Your generosity shall be the stuff of legends," she said.

"As well it should be," he agreed, getting his desk back to a height from which Famulus could stand. "Try to get this cleaned up before too long," he said, gesturing to the things he'd knocked to the ground. "People will get the wrong idea if they think I'm letting you get away with things like this."

"Of course, my lord," she said, pressing her thighs together as she pulled her dress back down over them.

"Good girl." He swatted her backside in passing as he swanned out of the room, leaving Famulus behind to—as always—clean up the mess that he'd left in his wake.


End file.
